


Not the Wedding Type

by cheeky_geek_m0nkey



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 18:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4232652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheeky_geek_m0nkey/pseuds/cheeky_geek_m0nkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cynthia Rose is getting hitched and Bechloe becomes cannon. Kinda a quick, nonsensical, already-been-done-before one shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Wedding Type

Beca had grown accustomed to the way everything seemed duller since graduation - how the colors of the city were muted, her thoughts unintelligible, her iPod looping the same song over and over on her drive to work without her even realizing it. Still, she told herself that at least she was healthier; having her heart rate spike dangerously fast every time a certain redhead walked into the kitchen for coffee or suggested a movie night wasn’t exactly doctor recommended.

It still surprised Beca, though, how the grey numbness she used to live in before Barden seemed so much more unbearable now. She didn’t know how much she craved those electric jolts of touch or grins or glances until it was gone. But she did. A lot.

Which was why - even though she was vehemently against weddings - Beca Mitchell was kind of, sort of, maybe, possibly, secretly really looking forward to Cynthia Rose’s wedding. The constant texts being sent in the group chat should have been irritating to Beca, who had no preference for Save the Dates and gift registries, but the texts would occasionally feature an excited Chloe holding the wedding invitation, the veins in her neck popping to push her smile as wide as it would go or a flirtatious Chloe posing in front of a mirror at some dress store, donning plunging neck-lines and shades of green that made her eyes sparkle. The redhead lived for weddings, as Beca remembered entirely too many Saturdays spent watching wedding specials and bridesmaid movies.

Beca hated weddings and all the “til death do we part” lies that were spread over the pure white of the bride’s dress, and she hated airplanes with every fiber of her being, but she was currently willing to endure both to see that unbearable, impossible enthusiasm that made her days at Barden so much more colorful than before school. Or after, for that matter.

Nervous? she texted Cynthia Rose while sitting on the runway, a way to distract herself from the baby in front of her, who was begging for attention that Beca most certainly was not going to give.

Nah, came the response. When it’s right, it’s right. And by that, I mean my bride is banging. Besides, I fuckin’ rock this tux.

Beca chuckled at that before reading through her other messages, spotting Chloe’s last one, which read Landed. Can’t wait to see you xx which made Beca blush like a 15 year old boy.

I’ve got no doubt about that, Beca answered CR easily. After a few seconds of pause, she turned back to her phone (that damn baby was now blowing spit bubbles at her) There better be good music, I stg.

No promises about tonight. Stacie planned the Bachelorette party. My repayment for breaking her secret lady-loving heart ;)

The bachelorette party…right. Several Barden Bellas, entirely too drunk and entirely too scantily clad. Which meant a lot of karaoke and a lot of touching. From one Bella in particular.

So lots of B Spears then…I can dig it.

The plane’s engine started up, but they were still circling the run away. Beca’s hands started to get clammy. She was going to personally murder whoever thought putting a giant metal contraption in the sky was a normal thing to do. Looking back down at her phone a final time, searching for some kind of comfort or distraction, Chloe’s name popped up.

Dear Badass Beca Mitchell, I know how much you hate planes (I did have the pleasure of holding your hand on the way to Copenhagen. I kinda thought I lost circulation). But turn up your music, and dream about my heavenlyyyyyy voice. You’ll be here before you know it.

Beca smiled, imagining the way the other girl would sing “heavenly” to emphasize her point. A follow-up text came through next.

Just…no David Guetta ;)

Beca blushed, typing back quickly as the seat-belt sign dinged.

Shut up, dork. We’re about to take off. See you soon.

She sent a quick text to CR to finish the conversation, then turned her phone off, dialing her music up all the way. She fought with all of her power not to think about the faulty man-made bird that she was trapped in, but, more than that, she fought not to think about the way it would feel to see the woman who was picking her up at the airport.

–

“Okay, aca-bitches, the next round’s on me!” Fat Amy shouted, standing up and clapping. Several other Bellas applauded this announcement before Stacie held a finger up. “Only one more, though, ladies, because we’ve got many more stops to make before the night’s through.”

She finished that with a wink, and Beca laughed, sipping her beer nervously. In order for Amy to scoot out of the booth, she needed to squeeze close to the redhead seated next to her - as if the hand on her thigh wasn’t enough to set every one of her nerves on fire.

Chloe had picked her up from the airport with the most aggressive and showy bear hug Beca had ever received, and it sent Beca’s heart jumping from her stomach to her throat and then down to her feet. From the instant she saw that dot of red hair from far away, she watched the grey colors melt into brightness again. It was almost blinding, almost deafening, having all of her senses turned back to normal levels again. Which was why the nearly permanent physical contact Chloe was maintaining with Beca was almost unbearable.

Only a few hours ago, she was naively missing those daily heart attacks. Now, after a four (almost five) hour long cardiac arrest, she almost wished for a break.  
At the three earlier stops of the night, the other Bellas noticed Chloe’s closeness - they all shot Beca the familiar (and much missed) glance that said, “For the love of God get your aca-shit together and make some aca-babies”. She was convinced at this point that she just acquired a sunburn from the constant state of blushing she was existing in.

Of course, it didn’t help that this stop was a tiny gay bar in Maine (Jesus, Stacie was talented…she’d even found a bedazzled bow-tie to replace the typical bridal tiara that had to be worn by the bride in question at a Bachelorette party, according to Aubrey), and that all of the Bellas were currently pushed into one booth…and that Chloe, when drunk - or really, even just a little tipsy - became even more touchy than when sober.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Chloe’s fingers ran over the rim of the glass she’d just emptied. Her voice was low, but it carried through the room. Probably because her lips were very close to Beca’s ear. Beca just looked at her, smiling and shrugging.

“I’m boreddd,” Chloe whined, pouting and leaning closer to Beca. Her hand was halfway up Beca’s thigh, and Beca thought it really was the worst night to try the whole skirt thing again.

“You’re drunk,” Beca answered simply, smirking. It was a familiar back and forth, occurring at nearly every party since Hood Night, but it never ceased to make her nervous.

“So are you,” Chloe grinned knowingly, jabbing a finger into Beca’s collarbone. Beca threw back the last of her drink, shrugging. It was as close as she could get to denying it, since Chloe had seen her drink more tonight than at most other parties at Barden. Granted, she wasn’t as drunk as Chloe - she almost never got as drunk as Chloe…no one ever did - but she was pleasantly tipsy, using every drink handed to her that night to help squelch the nervous feeling in her stomach.

She didn’t know where any of her resolve came from in the past. For christ’s sake, they slept in the same bed for at least two years at school, and now she could barely handle Chloe’s legs sprawled over hers.

“Cheezus Christ, can you two just get your lady-love reunion over already so we don’t have to watch you two eye-fuck all night?” Amy muttered when she came back with drinks, and Beca coughed to cover up the discomfort she felt. Chloe didn’t seem to notice, further nuzzling into Beca and humming. CR, thankfully, noticed Beca’s squirm, and clapped her hands together to get everyone’s attention.

“Ladies, ladies,” she stood up, her hands folded together, “I’ve been informed that you must drink up. We’ve got two more stops to make a strict curfew set by my bride.”  
Lilly whispered a “here, here” (and maybe something more, but Beca couldn’t really tell) before throwing her drink back, starting a weird kind of synchronized wave throughout the booth until every Bella had downed their drink. They all started to stand, but Chloe didn’t budge.

“But I don’t want to go,” she whined, her grip on Beca’s sleeve tightening. Beca was curling Chloe’s hair around her finger, but her breath hitched involuntarily.  
“If you’re too tired, we can get a taxi, head back to the hotel…”

Chloe hummed, closing her eyes. Beca was dizzy, but she’d been drinking. That’s probably why the music was somehow louder too.

“You guys coming?” Aubrey asked, shuffling her feet. She’d remained relatively silent the entire night, not entirely comfortable with the atmosphere and maintaining a harshly protective proximity to Chloe. The other Bellas were standing in the exit, though, and Chloe only answered her friend with a grin. Aubrey’s eyes shifted to a more sober Beca for a proper response.

“I think I’m gonna put this one to bed,” Beca answered, sighing and averting her eyes from Aubrey’s sharp glare, “A few months of preschool teaching has made her tolerance weaker. Somehow.”

Aubrey’s look lingered for a moment before she nodded. “Text me if you need any help.”

Beca saluted, waiting for the whole Bella crew to leave before she shifted, turning to Chloe, who was fiddling with the necklace Beca was wearing.

“Sleep?” was all she said, and Chloe bit her lip, smiling.

“Bachelorette parties are not for sleeping,” Chloe giggled back, running a finger from Beca’s wrist to her forearm. For a second, she forgot how to breathe.

“Then why didn’t you leave with them?”

Chloe giggled again, moving impossibly closer to Beca’s face. “I misssed you.”

“Okay, we’re leaving,” Beca answered quickly, moving as fast as she could. It was like ripping off a band-aid - harsh and painful and very important to do, because it was beginning to be impossible to push her glance away from Chloe’s lips or the plunge of her dress, which was just barely covering what it should be. In short, it was beginning to be impossible to act like a gentleman. She clearly wanted to surrender to that pull, but this wasn’t Chloe. It was drunk Chloe, nostalgic Chloe, and Beca knew that in the morning the night would’ve been yet another attempt at the ol’ college experiment. Another funny story for another game of Never Have I Ever, and Beca didn’t think she was capable of maintaining that casualness the morning after. So she poked Chloe’s side, making the other girl squeal with glee, and then forced them both to stand.

She suffered through a cab-ride of cuddles, praying for the moment where she stood in front of Chloe’s door, ushering her safely into the room and then leaving as soon as possible to clean herself up - after all, that was their routine at Barden.

And, adherent to their routine at Barden, as Beca handed Chloe back the heels she took off the minute they’d stepped into the cab, Chloe grabbed her wrist and pulled her close.

“I don’t wanna be alone, silly,” Chloe said, biting her lip again and - with a dexterity that should’ve been long gone at this stage of drunkenness - put the key card in the door and opened in.

“Chlo, I really should get some sleep. Wedding photos and all that.” Her words were so half-hearted - Beca had been resisting all night, and she was tipsy and tired - so Chloe knew that all she needed was to throw a pout Beca’s way.

“Just to make sure you fall asleep, alright?” Beca relented, following a skipping Chloe into the room with their hands intertwined. And when they laid in bed together, Beca traced the lines on Chloe’s palm as the other girl hummed a distant melody, every part of their bodies pressing against each other in some way, Beca couldn’t exactly pull away and couldn’t exactly fall asleep, staring at the ceiling until it was bright enough to slip out unnoticed. Her head was pounding.

–

“I thought you said you didn’t like weddings,” Aubrey questioned when all the Bellas were situated on the bench. It was a beautiful set-up, even by Beca’s standards, set up in a field of grass outside a quaint bed and breakfast, just a few good friends scattered around. Beca turned quickly at the sound of Aubrey’s voice, surprised that the other girl was talking to her at all.

“What? Yeah, I mean, I don’t,” Beca answered. She started to fiddle with the hair that slipped loose from her side braid, ending up pulling an entire strand out. Aubrey nodded, smiling as if she knew a secret, and Beca couldn’t help but push further. “What? Why are you laughing?”

“Beca, what are those flowers called over there?” Aubrey pointed to the arch of flowers at the altar. Beca pursed her lips, recognizing them from a series of excited texts Chloe had sent a few weeks prior. 

“Lilies and lisianthus,” Beca answered easily, and really, the response surprised herself. Beca found flowers to be the perfect symbol for a wedding - a temporary sign of beauty that inevitably ended in death, or heartache, or both. But when Chloe talked about them over their video chats, she couldn’t resist joining in, loving the way Chloe’s lips curled when she talked about something she loved.

“And this color scheme…,” Aubrey continued, a smirk threatening to spread up her face, “What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” Beca answered simply, shifting in her chair. She looked around at the deep maroon. “Just edgy enough for someone like Cynthia-Rose, but still traditional.” Again, Beca stopped talking and replayed the words in her head, surprised. She’d rattled that off so easily.

“Thought so,” Aubrey grinned, looking back down at her program, which Beca proceeded to tear out of her hands.

“Thought so, what? This whole ‘Vague and Suggestive Interrogation’ thing isn’t really a great way to have a conversation, Bree.” Aubrey pursed her lips again, and Beca thought for a moment that she was in for a classic Bella Rehearsal Breakdown, but instead, Aubrey smiled. What kind of drugs was this woman taking? 

You hate weddings. You would have to, one would think, because you come from a broken home.” Beca winced at the phrasing, the way that Aubrey referred to her life like one of the several middle school teachers who always pulled her aside after class to ensure her that they’d “always be available” if she needed to “talk”. She was so weird sometimes. “But you love this wedding. And why? Because your date loves it too.”

“My date?” Beca’s questioning was cut off conveniently by Chloe, who slapped her knee and nuzzled into her neck, leaning forward to involve herself in the conversation.

“What’re you two babbling about?” Chloe questioned, her smile infectious. She’d been like this all day, seemingly impervious to the hangover demons. “Fun wedding surprises?”

Beca would’ve come up with some planned, safe, un-vague and un-suspicious conversation topic, but she realized just how little her brain worked with Chloe’s hand on her knee, head on her neck, and extremely low-cut green dress peeking into her line of sight. She realized her silence and the angle of her stare wasn’t exactly a good counter-argument to Aubrey’s suggestion, and Aubrey, unfortunately, realized this too. She hummed with satisfaction at the look on Beca’s face.

“I wouldn’t call it a surprise,” Aubrey said, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. It was a new look for the older woman, and Beca would’ve been surprised if she weren’t so uncomfortable with the implications of her words. “We’ve all been expecting it to happen for a while now, actually.”

Chloe leaned back a little, surprised. “Oh, well I haven’t heard about it. What is it?”

“Ask Beca,” Aubrey said, a smile donning her face. Beca started to realize that her uncharacteristic joy was coming from the way that the younger girl squirmed.  
Chloe had shifted her stare to question Beca, her eyes impossibly blue and confused and adorably wide.

“Um, it’s, um, I don’t know what she’s–” Beca played again with the loose strand of hair, her hands shaking. 

“You’ve got to wait until the reception,” Aubrey cautioned Chloe, pointing like she was talking to a little kid, “But based on what you’ve told me, I know you’ll like it.”  
And with that, thank God, the music started playing. It was beautiful, actually, void of string quartets and pure Canon in D’s, Cynthia Rose asked Beca to prepare a mix that carried that basic tune - which, really, wasn’t hard, seeing as most songs used that chord progression anyway. CR was beautiful too, as her claim about the tuxedo was completely accurate. It was fitted to accentuate her best features, feminine around the corners but still inherently badass in the classic Cynthia-Rose way. Beca was almost jealous, stuffed as she was in a deep red dress that pressed into all her curves in a way that made her feel like she couldn’t breathe. Throughout the ceremony, CR cracked jokes, pausing for a moment to emphasize a point she made with a body-roll that made the small crowd laugh. She was confident, stunning in her certainty and happiness, and Beca liked the whole thing. She really did. She shouldn’t have been surprised to see that at the end of the ceremony, Chloe was wiping away tears.

She never did handle criers well, but she couldn’t exactly leave, her limbs somehow tangled with Chloe as the girl pulled her tighter the more she cried. It was unfortunate, because the sight of Chloe Beale crying was enough to split the world in two.

“What happened…what did I –” Beca stumbled over her words, rushing to say everything that would end the tears at once, but Chloe just laughed, pressing her middle finger to the edges of her eyes.

“I do this at every wedding,” she answered, as if that would calm Beca down.

“That doesn’t really matter,” Beca argued, pressing her forehead against the other girl’s, “You’re crying, and I hate it when you cry.” Chloe laughed again, shaking her head and pursing her lips to try to stop the tears.

“What, you want me to dance? That little pick-up-the-phone move never ceases to make you crack up.” Chloe let out a belly laugh then, and Beca melted into it. She pressed her head against Beca’s shoulder.

“Beca,” her voice was suddenly serious. It sent a shiver down Beca’s spine. “I have to ask you a question.”

“O-okay.”

“What was that wedding surprise Aubrey was talking about?”

Beca breathed out. This wasn’t the conversation she wanted to have. “Beats me,” was all she said. It was a cop-out, and Chloe felt it, her shoulders deflating slightly. They were quiet for a short while as more people filed out of the field.

“Beca,” she said with the same tone, “I have another question.”

“Yeah, Chlo?” Beca wasn’t sure why her hands were as clammy as when she was on that plane. She felt like she could hear the engine starting.

“Why didn’t you kiss me last night?”

Beca almost choked on air. She wanted to pull away from the other girl, but Chloe only held her tighter. “What?”

“Last night, I thought I…well,” Chloe refused to move up, so all Beca could see was the top of her head and her hands moving frantically. “I thought I was being kinda obvious.”

“Oh,” Beca breathed. “You thought you were…being…” She knew she was just repeating the words, but she hoped that feeling them on her own tongue would somehow confirm their reality. “You wanted me to kiss you?”

Chloe nodded silently.

“You were drunk.”

Chloe shrugged. “I had two drinks. Gave the rest to CR.”

“Then why did you…why were you –” Beca hardly heard the words that were leaving her mouth. The air tasted metallic.

“Because you’re dumb,” Chloe answered, finally shifting to face Beca, her hands on Beca’s hand. “Because there’s something you’re resisting and I thought if you loosened up a little bit - if you had some time to yourself after we graduated well then…I don’t know maybe you’d stop resisting, and I’d stop waiting, and…”

“Waiting?”

“Beca, god….” She pressed a hand to Beca’s face. It was soft, and Beca could smell the vanilla. Her thumb ran over Beca’s cheekbones. “Last night, you wanted to…right?”  
Beca didn’t know why, just then, she felt everything crumble. Maybe it was the way Chloe looked at her with all the hope in the world, or the fact that she stayed so tight, so zipped up, for four years and she couldn’t take the weight of it anymore. Either way, she practically moaned when she breathed out, “Yes. God I really did.”  
When Chloe smiled at that, it both satisfied Beca to no end and stirred something entirely new within her. She wanted more.

“And do you want to…still?” Chloe’s tone was hesitant, but her look was sure. Their noses were touching, and Chloe’s thumb moved from Beca’s cheekbone to her bottom lip.

“God, yes,” Beca breathed, and before she knew it, Chloe’s lips were pressed against hers - eager and reserved all at the same time, but still setting Beca’s senses completely out of control. If seeing that red hair in the airport flicked her senses from 0 to 100, she was blazing now at 550, on fire and frozen. Everything felt totally new - the taste of Chloe’s cherry lipgloss, the soft peach fuzz on hr neck, the smell of last night’s bar and the hotel soap, Beca could feel all of it with such vibrancy she forgot completely what breathing in grey felt like, even though it was all she’d ever known for so long. She couldn’t breathe through it all, but she was okay with that.

“Goddamn, praise the Lord,” they heard Cynthia-Rose shout from somewhere behind them, followed by the hoots and hollers of a few other Bellas (if Beca was paying more attention, she’d have heard Aubrey’s own celebratory shout, but forgive her if she was a bit distracted). She just felt Chloe shift slightly, not tearing her lips from Beca’s, and had the strange feeling she’d lifted a fist in the air in a tell-tale symbol of a classic 80’s movie. It made Beca chuckled, breaking free for just a second to shake her head at the other girl before grabbing her face in her hands.

“You’re such a fucking dork,” she breathed, and leaned in for more.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm slowly uploading all my fic here, but LOADS more fanfic is on my tumblr @ flabbergasties. HIT ME UP BROSKIS.


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